Walking in Dreams
by Project Y
Summary: Alfred Jones walks in the dreams of others; his twin Matthew is often invisible. When they start afresh in a new state, will they be able to leave their past behind, or will it only continue to haunt them?  supernatural AU - Project Y #1
1. Chapter 1

_This is __**Project Y**__ (Corpseflesh and mystik-dawn) here with our very first story, an Axis Powers Hetalia high school AU (with supernatural themes). The main pairings here are PruCan and RusAme, but there are many more that will be revealed as the story progresses._

_

* * *

_He stepped off the bus confidently, his twin brother trailing behind him, knowing that it was going to be a great first day of school. Ever since moving to this new town, he had felt nothing but optimism. It was a new school and a whole new state, even, for them. Their father had made sure that they would go somewhere like this, a little hick town in the middle of nowhere.

Their bags—brand-new backpacks courtesy of their father—were slung over their shoulders as the early-autumn breeze caused a slight stirring chill. He had made sure to wear his precious bomber jacket over top of the jeans and grey t-shirt with the American flag imprinted on the front that he sported, while his brother was only wearing his favourite red hoodie and jeans.

"You cold, Matt?" he asked cheerfully as he began to drag his brother towards the building. The other didn't even try to resist, instead choosing to run to keep up. "Slow _down_, Al!" the older one said quietly—he wasn't really a talker—"we're not late yet! We have," he checked his watch, "twenty minutes still!" Alfred immediately slowed down as per his brother's request.

"Sorry, Mattie," he apologized as they both stopped and a boy with dark blonde hair to his shoulders who was holding the hand a considerably younger girl—probably his sister—with an identical haircut hurried past them, giving them a quick and confused glance. For a second Alfred thought that there was something strange about the boy, but he turned away and continued walking.

"Come on, though," said Alfred, "I want to quickly put all my stuff in my locker." Matthew sighed and resisted the urge to say that it was only because he had forgotten to bring everything to the school at the previous day's new-student orientation. "Fine," said his older twin, and they continued walking.

Still, Alfred couldn't shake off the feeling that there had been something strange—a certain sort of _look_—in that other boy's eyes. He looked the same age as them, but there had been something almost probing, something as though the other was seeking a piece of something from them, as he looked them over.

He shook his head and tried to forget about it, but one thought never escaped his head: that it couldn't have been about the Evil, could it have been?

No, it couldn't have been. They were in a whole new _state_, for crying out loud; no one knew about what had happened before, and no one ever would, if they both kept their mouths shut. And with that, he let the thought of the blonde boy and his sister escape his mind.

* * *

"Good morning," said the teacher as they walked into the class, "I'm Marcus Vargas, and I teach world history here. This class is going to be your homeroom for the rest of the year." Matthew looked around the room and was highly impressed. There was a large globe on the teacher's desk, along with several small statuettes that looked as though they could've been ancient Greek or Roman sculptures. World maps hung from the walls, which were painted a shade of watercolour-paint red.

"Why don't you introduce yourself?" Mr. Vargas suggested. There were only about 6 other people there—this was a rather small high school, after all. One had ash-blonde hair and wore a beige scarf, another had slicked-back flaxen hair, and the boy sitting next to him had obviously dyed silvery hair and crimson eyes—probably contacts. Then there was a girl who had long chestnut brown hair with a flower tucked behind her ear, a blonde boy of medium height with silky hair, and finally a youthful boy with auburn hair that had a large curl sticking out of it.

"I'm Alfred F. Jones!" said his brother energetically, "and I'm a hero! I'm always the best at everything, because **I'm** the best! I hope we can be friends! Oh, and this is my brother," he grabbed Matthew and pushed him in front of him, "his name is Matthew Williams, but we're still brothers. I hope we can all just get along!"

He dragged Matthew to a seat.

Alfred looked over at what the others were doing; Scarf was studying him intently, Blondie was looking at him discreetly, and Vamp was openly staring at Mattie—wait, staring at _his brother_?—while the girl fiddled with her clothes nervously, Silky fixed his hair, and Cowlick looked at the posters hanging on the walls.

"Padre," asked Cowlick finally, "can we go to class now?" The teacher looked up from the book he had been reading—Matthew saw that it had an erotic cover—and nodded. "Oh, si, si, sure. I'm sorry for keeping you. If you're late, just say it's my fault, okay?"

* * *

Homeroom had been boring enough, but _why was everyone staring_? Matthew shook off the residual paranoia—they _couldn't_ know about the Evil—and walked to his first class with his brother. He was lucky they were in all the same classes together. He didn't know how they'd survive without each other.

First class turned out to be English, a class that they shared with Ludwig (Blondie, the one with slicked back hair), Scarf, and Feliciano (Cowlick, who turned out to be Mr. Vargas's son). The other three members of the class were either sophomores (Mathias, the Norwegian with nice hair) or seniors (Gilbert, the albino who was Ludwig's older brother, and Elizabeta, the girl with the flower.)

They spent most of the way there speaking with Ludwig and Feliciano, who they learnt had been close friends since they were children, while Scarf remained silent. Alfred and Matthew still didn't know his name, and it was clear that Ludwig and Feliciano were pointedly pretending that he wasn't there. Ludwig began speaking. "Our father teaches this class—my older bruder and mine, I mean." Feliciano kept shooting them concerned glances, as though he was worried—or as if he _knew something_.

They arrived and Alfred saw a man with long flaxen blonde hair that went past his shoulders (with braids in it as well) standing at the front, writing something out on the whiteboard. "Guten morgen, everyone," he said as he turned around. "Oh, Ludwig!" He said something to him in German and Feliciano laughed.

Scarf had already started to put down his bookbag (which was a deep shade of scarlet) when Alfred suddenly stepped in front of him. "Hey! You never introduced yourself during homeroom!" he yelled, loudly enough for everyone in the class (and probably the next one over as well) to hear.

"My name," said the boy with ash-blonde hair, "is Ivan Braginski. I am from Russia. Now leave me alone. I don't wish to talk to you now—or ever." He bent down to pick up a sheet of paper that had fallen out of a binder; Alfred snatched it up before he could take it.

"Nuh-uh, red," said Alfred, "now what's this?" He picked up the paper and looked at it; it looked to be an application of some sort, written on light blue stationery in girly handwriting and had a picture of a well-endowed girl with the exact same hair colour as Ivan's attached to it with a pink paperclip. "Who's this, red? Your girlfriend? Nah, probably your sister; she looks too much like you do."

Ivan snatched the stationery back, "I told you not to talk to me," he snarled, "but clearly you're not very good at listening, are you, Alfred Jones?" Alfred only shrugged, "Hey, well, all I can say is, your sister's pretty good-looking for the sister of a Russian commie like you."

"What did you say?" asked Ivan coldly, a threatening smile cracking over his face. "I just called you a commie—commie bastard," replied Alfred conversationally—calmly. "I," said Ivan, his face frozen in a rather frightening smile—a _grin_, "am not a communist, you idiotic American pig. You would do well to remember that in the future."

With a cry, Alfred launched himself at Ivan. The other didn't step backwards in time, and they were suddenly tangled up together on the floor of the English room. Alfred managed to land a punch on the commie's big fat nose, while the Russian had retaliated by kicking him in his vital regions.

"STOP!" shouted Mr. Beilschmidt, his pale eyes blazing as the rest of the class stared on in horror: "Both of you, go to the nurse's office right now! I'll deal with you two later!" Matthew looked at his twin in absolute terror as they both slowly stood up. Blood was gushing from Ivan's nose and Alfred was clutching at his crotch in pain, but other than that they were mostly unscathed.

They walked out of the classroom in silence as Mr. Beilschmidt introduced himself to the newcomers, the last of whom had just finish trailing in.

Finally Ivan spoke. "You know, подсолнечник, I must admit that I did not think you would attack me." The other responded hotly, "It was... what's that term they use on TV... pre... mediated! And what did you just call me?" They were still walking down the second-floor hall.

"Firstly, you attacked me first by calling me a 'red' and a 'commie bastard', if I remember correctly, when I am clearly not a communist. Secondly, подсолнечник is a... what is the word... term of endearment in Russian. It is... somewhat like a nickname." Ivan smoothed back his hair; they were approaching the stairwell to the ground floor.

""Hey, y'know," said Alfred suddenly, "being the epic hero n'all, I've decided to forgive you. You're not awesome, really, but you're all right. You're pretty cool... and stuff." He looked at the taller one brightly. "So, have you got any siblings?"

"You already saw one of them," replied Ivan; he could afford to be benevolent as long as the other was willing to act the same way, and smiled that disturbed grin once more. Alfred still didn't trust him. "Her name is Ekaterina—Katyusha. My other sister," he paused as they walked down the stairs, a troubled look on his face, "is a year younger than me, and quite..." he searched for the right word, "_attached_ to me. Yes, that's it."

"What does your older sister do?" asked Alfred, "that was some sort of application form, wasn't it?" He ran ahead, forcing the Russian to lengthen his steps even more. "Both of my sisters are models," said the other, "but my younger one is a runway model and is always travelling. My older sister works in an office most of the time nowadays."

"I sometimes wish I had more siblings," said Alfred wistfully, "but all I've got is a brother and a snotty British cousin." He cheered up, "my father works in an office too! I don't know what happened to my mother, though..." he said, trailing off. "Mattie took her last name, while I got my father's."

"My parents are dead," responded Ivan curtly—factually. _What a monster_, Alfred thought, _he doesn't even care that his parents died_. "They died in a car crash about four years ago." He smiled ruefully. "I, too, have an irritating cousin. Unfortunately for me, he also happens to attend this school."

They lapsed into silence, Alfred not quite sure what to say. _What do you tell someone who's just told you that their parents died in a car crash_? He wondered this briefly as his head was starting to ache quite a bit. Strange, since he'd slept for at least 12 hours last night.

"Don't say anything," advised Ivan suddenly. The American looked up, surprised. "What? I didn't say anything." Ivan turned away quickly. _I wasn't supposed to let that out_, he thought, admonishing himself silently. _But he knows anyway._

Before he could think twice about it, he found himself talking to the hapless American once again. "It's not evil, nor is it a curse, Alfred F. Jones," he said quietly, that creepy voice not much more than a whisper (it _scared_ the American so much), "It is not bad if you can control it, dreamwalker."

Head-splitting pain ripped through Alfred's mind as he turned, grabbed the Russian by his scarf (an admirable feat, since the other was 4 inches taller and considerably heavier than he was). _All muscle_, he thought through his fogged-up mind, before he swung Ivan into a locker.

The Russian angrily turned back around to face Alfred—his nose was definitely broken now, if it hadn't been before—and, to the other's surprise, closed his eyelids tightly, a look of serenity perched on his pale face. Alfred felt another burst—more like a wave—of searing agony crash through his skull as he reached out for the scarf, ready to grab the end again.

_Stop moving_, there was a whisper in his head that gradually grew in intensity. _Stop fighting_. Alfred couldn't resist the voice any longer; he looked around the hall frantically. There was no one in sight. No one had heard the smash of the locker as Ivan's face collided with it.

Speaking of Ivan, he was opening his eyes—_god_, he didn't notice how pale and violet they were before—and smiling maniacally. "Presently, only about eight people here know about you and your brother," he said as the psychopathic light disappeared from his eyes, "but it doesn't matter either way."

"What? Why?" asked Alfred, the pain in his head retreating rapidly as Ivan's breathing became smoother. "Because," Ivan smiled again, coldly, "you see, little American, _we all have powers as well_."

He wiped his nose on his sleeve—it was completely drenched in blood now—and they spent the rest of the walk to the nurse's office in mildly uncomfortable silence.

* * *

Matthew looked around the classroom, trying to get a glimpse outside the door, which was squeaking and slightly ajar. He hadn't seen Alfred at all after the _incident_ with the Russian who was in their homeroom. Instead of accompanying Alfred to the nurse, he was forced to continue attending Mr. Beilschmidt's class as though nothing had happened.

_When will Alfred ever learn to keep his mouth shut? _wondered Matthew, as he nervously shifted in his seat, _sometimes people just want their own space. I wonder whether he got fixed up by the nurse... that strange kid was rather... large, and Alfred was definitely no match for him._

Matthew gave a tiny sigh, and attempted to concentrate on Mr. Beilschmidt's droning on about the fall of the Roman Empire, which was a topic that he seemed to be rather passionate about. Normally Matthew would have attempted to look interested, yet worry and curiosity kept gnawing at his mind, and Matthew finally resolved to leave and find out what happened to Alfred.

_Looking for my twin brother is a good reason to leave class_. He slowly raised his arm, and Mr. Beilschmidt looked at his direction. "What?" he asked irritably. Throughout the entire class, he had been irritated by that Italian from Matthew's homeroom, who never seemed to stop talking or asking questions as Ludwig attempted to shush him.

"Um..." Matthew whispered, "Can I..." Mr. Beilschmidt simply looked at him and said dully, "You'll have to speak louder, I can't hear you over... _certain individuals _here." He cleared his throat and tried again. "May I please go to the bathroom?" His teacher nodded. "That's fine, just be quick about it." Matthew stammered a thank-you, and quickly fled the class.

He closed the door behind him, breathing deeply. He looked around the bare hall, wondering where to go. At that moment, an idea sprang into Matthew's mind. _I'll just use my power, _Matthew thought, _I'll turn invisible, so that nobody will notice me!_

Matthew closed his eyes, and willed himself to turn invisible. A cool feeling washed over him, and he opened his eyes. He looked down at his hands, and was quickly satisfied to see that he had become completely transparent. _Now I can go and find out where Alfred is, _Matthew thought. _It's time to somehow find the nurse's office. _

He turned left from the classroom, and began to walk down the desolate and empty hallway. As he walked, he heard footsteps behind him. Out of fear, Matthew began to walk a little faster. As he did, the footsteps behind him grew a little faster as well. Suddenly, a voice behind him called out, "Hey, wait up!"

_What? Why would that person be talking to me? _Matthew wondered. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed that the person had silvery hair, with the palest skin he had ever seen. He looked somewhat familiar—oh! He was the albino from his homeroom!

_I can't believe it! He can see through my power? _Matthew frantically thought, searching through his mind. No, everything was right. O_r could it be that it never worked? _While he thought this, the guy caught up with Matthew's steps. Matthew couldn't help but notice the piercing crimson eyes that lit up the whiteness of the other's face as he pretended that he wasn't there—he was one of the boys from his homeroom.

"Hey, I remember you! You're one of the twins who are in my homeroom!" the guy said enthusiastically, "My name is Gilbert! What's yours?" Matthew wasn't sure whether to respond or not. _Hopefully he'll get caught by some teacher, _thought Matthew, _or perhaps he's just a psychopath like that Russian._

"Hey, blondie, I'm talking to you," Gilbert said. Irritation was creeping into his voice, and Matthew was starting to seriously consider just running away. The white-haired boy seemed to have become agitated. He stopped in his tracks, and started to stare intensely at the floor. Matthew suddenly noticed that his eyes were like glowing embers.

Suddenly, Matthew felt as if someone had poured cold water down the collar of his shirt and it was trailing down his back. He blinked several times, and looked down. Suddenly, his hands weren't transparent anymore as he looked down—he was no longer invisible!

"What?" whispered Matthew—this had never happened before, _ever_. No one had ever been able to see through his power. Gilbert grinned and said in a rather lofty voice, "Allow me to introduce myself again... my name is Gilbert Beilschmidt, and I am the awesome King of Shadows!"

Matthew stared at Gilbert, mouth slightly agape. "So then... do you know about... the Evil?" he whispered shyly. Gilbert smirked and replied, "You mean that you can turn invisible? Not at first... I just saw your faint shadow. All I did was darken your shadow, and voila! You appeared!"

Matthew wasn't sure what to say. His head was still spinning at the fact that someone—apart from Alfred and their father—knew about the Evil. He wondered if this boy knew about the Evil that had happened before. "I must admit, I was sort of expecting this from you," Gilbert continued. "Wait, what?" Matthew asked dumbly, his mouth dropping open again. They were still walking down the hall to no particular destination, it seemed.

"Well, whenever people see you and your brother together, your brother is constantly talking and never letting you do anything at all. Compared with him, you're just like... just like a shadow. His shadow, I guess... something awesome like that." He tipped his head back and let out a roaring laugh. Matthew asked quietly, "So you have an... ability... as well?"

Gilbert shrugged and said, "If you want to call it that... I'd prefer it being called an _awesome power_... my awesome power!In fact, about one third of the people at this school have powers! That's why we're all sent here!" Silently he added, _We're all freaks here._ But he didn't say that. He didn't want to scare the underclassman too much. Yet.

Matthew's eyes widened. "Really?" he asked, "What about the teachers?" Gilbert again shrugged his shoulders. "There are about five of them here who know about us and about our special abilities, but the rest don't know anything about them. The ones who do know often help us, and treat us with respect because of them. This school's about the survival of the fittest, and, of course, the most awesome!"

Matthew shifted on his feet uneasily. He wanted to continue talking to Gilbert, but he had to find Alfred as well, and he couldn't have both. He realized that he didn't know where the nurse's office actually was. Gilbert continued his easy bantering. "So, why do I find you walking around the hallways, being invisible?" Matthew felt his piercing gaze, scrutinizing the blonde's face. He flushed and quietly answered, "I was worried about what happened to my brother. I decided to go to the nurse's office and make sure that he's okay."

"Wow, you're that concerned about someone who barely pays much attention to you?" Gilbert asked. Matthew only blinked. "What are you talking about?" he asked, wariness of the other quickly growing in him. Gilbert simply waved his hand, dismissing the topic, and replied, "Never mind... well, I'm not in the mood to go to my trigonometry class, so I'm coming with you."

"You're not going to your trigonometry class?" Matthew asked, quietly horrified that someone could just leave a class like that. Gilbert grinned—a smile that only a juvenile delinquent would be able to pull off properly—and replied, "I prefer the term _ditching_. Or skipping, I guess. Besides, you do need someone to help you find where the nurse's office is, right?"

"...I guess so," whispered Matthew. He'd never met someone quite like this. "Great! Let's get going!" Gilbert chirped—_like a bird_. He started to lead Matthew to some stairs at the end of the hall. As they walked, Matthew accidently voiced his thoughts out loud, "I'm surprised that you remembered me... compared with my brother in our homeroom."

"Yeah, well, you may appear like a quiet and good little mouse, but your eyes seem to hold more meaning than one would think. Wasn't there some awesome quote that said something like, _the eyes are the windows to the soul, _or something like that?" Gilbert replied casually. "Besides, everyone knows that good little boys are never really as pure as they seem." He grinned again.

Matthew couldn't help but wonder what Gilbert was saying. _Is he actually more interested in me than Alfred? _Matthew thought in amazement. They arrived at a white door. "Ah! Here we are!" Gilbert announced gleefully. "This is Nurse Kjær's room."

"Wait, Nurse Kj...?" Matthew struggled with the nurse's name. "Nurse Kjær," Gilbert patiently said, "You pronounce it as: _Keeyahr_.She's related to four of the students here—she graduated a few years ago, and she's the birth sister of a junior who I'm sort of friends with, Gunnar Kjær."

"Wow," Matthew replied, looking around. _Where is Alfred? _Matthew thought, as his eyes continued to scan around the room. Gilbert seemed to have read the other's thoughts. "Your brother would be in here," gestured Gilbert, towards a window that was a couple of meters away, "This is just her office. Alfred would most likely be in the sick room." He led Matthew towards the window in the wall. "Let's look in the window," he suggested cheerfully. "You can only get to the sick room from her office."

A thick window was next to the door. Gilbert and Matthew peered through the window, and Matthew gasped when he saw a bandage covering one of his brother's cheeks. He also stiffened when he saw the same creepy blonde Russian in the room with a bandage over his nose and another on his forehead.

"Who is that weird Russian boy with the scarf? He was in our homeroom, I think," Matthew asked. "Oh, him? That's Ivan Braginski," Gilbert responded, "You should always stay away from him... they say that he's a bit... _special_, and by that I mean psychopathic. He has... certain powers... that he can barely control, since he's one of the strongest of us in this school.

Matthew gave a tiny nod. Suddenly, Ivan stood up and started to walk towards Alfred. Matthew felt Gilbert shift behind him. "What's wrong?" whispered Matthew. Ivan started to peel off his tawny brown leather gloves, and slowly brought up two fingers towards Alfred's face... _higher_... and _higher_...

"Mein gott," Gilbert growled, his previous cheerful and carefree demeanour gone, "We have to stop him before he...!" He never finished his sentence, beginning to crouch. "What? Why?" Matthew asked. Gilbert didn't answer, and instead began to leap towards the window. Realizing what he was going to do, Matthew jumped after him and they both crashed through the window as Alfred and Ivan looked up and started to stare.

Ivan grabbed the sleeve of Alfred's bomber jacket and pulled both of them behind the bed as glass sprayed everywhere and both Matthew and Gilbert spilled out into the ward. Alfred yelled, Gilbert howled in pain, Ivan ducked, and Matthew felt the world spinning around him as he hit the ground.

Alfred shouted, "Mattie!" and Matthew felt a warm hand on his face as he faded in and out of his consciousness.

Then there was nothing but darkness.

* * *

Roderich, Elizabeta, Yao, Ludwig, and Vash had called a meeting. This was what Ivan learnt as he probed through people's minds, making sure to leave not a trace of himself. He was certainly capable of _that_, now, though clearly the stupid German who had foolishly chosen to leap through the window—to "protect" Alfred, no doubt—hadn't known that, which would explain why the school nurse now sat next to him and painstakingly picked out the last shards of glass.

There was a student who had been in his homeroom—his name was Matvey or something of that sort—who was Alfred's twin brother. He had fainted after the idiotic so-called Prussian had landed on the nurse's office's floor.

What of Alfred? The usually-talkative American paced over his twin, eyebrows furrowed, occasionally casting a glare at Gilbert and then at Ivan. Gilbert winced as the last fragment was removed, at which point Margrethe left the room, no doubt to procure some bandages for the albino.

Speaking of the silvery-haired boy, he stood, and angrily began to yell. "How could you have even tried to do that to Alfred Jones 'the Hero' over here? You _know _you can't control your power! You _know_ about the damage this could have caused! So how could you have done this?" He raged, his crimson eyes glowing almost-demonically.

_He wished he was someplace else_. Somewhere quiet, where the only sound was that of the blades of his skates scraping over worn ice, where it was cold, so mind-numbingly cold and _perfect_, where he could close his eyes and just get away from it all.

"Actually," said Ivan in an icy tone, that same sinister smile that was growing so _familiar_ to Alfred spreading across his face, "if you had simply paid attention during the meetings, you would have known that I have been successfully able to enter others' minds and touch them with my hands without any pain. Obviously, you haven't even been _attending_ the recent meetings, so I suppose it's not much of a surprise that you don't know, is it?" As he said this, that sick smile had turned sweet and maddening.

"...Scheiße," muttered Gilbert as Alfred turned to both of them and yelled, infuriated, "My brother is passed out on some bed, there's a broken window that two people just decided to jump through, I just got into a fight with some dude, and the best thing of all is that it's all my fucking fault! Could you just, I dunno, shut up for a second?"

Gilbert looked at Matthew, who was just beginning to stir—he couldn't deny that the younger boy was _attractive_—and said meekly, "I can pay for the window, if that's what will make you feel better."

"You'd better," said Nurse Kjær, in a nearly-dangerous voice as she walked back in from the other room, bandages in her hands. "Now sit. Is this... Matthew boy... waking up yet?" Alfred retorted defensively, "He's my bro!" Ivan simply sighed as Gilbert fidgeted. He had never liked bandages. She was eventually finished, and left in silence.

"We have a meeting during lunch period," said Ivan dully, "and that includes the two of you, as well. Maybe you should try to attend this meeting, so you might actually be _up to date_ with your information, да, Gilbert?" he smiled sweetly. "Maybe then you might be _accepted_ by the rest of us, don't you think?"

"_What_?" asked Alfred, "We have to go to this fucking _meeting_ thing?" he asked disbelievingly, his tone of voice clearly showing just how excited he was at the prospect. "Yeah," said Gilbert, "you sorta do." He leaned back on the bed and folded his arms behind his back, looking bored.

Matthew opened his eyes groggily and looked around. "...What time is it? What's going on?" he mumbled, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Oh! Mattie! You're awake!" Alfred yelled joyously. "There's a meeting going on at lunch and right now it's 9:26 in the morning!"

Matthew groaned and closed his eyes again.

* * *

_Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please review, we appreciate it. We'll probably update once a week, more or less, but the chapters are also very long, so don't expect too much. Пока and ja ne!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Konnichiwa and привет since last time! This is chapter two of "Walking in Dreams", the first story written by Project Y (mystik-dawn and Corpseflesh). Enjoy._

* * *

"Yes, lunch!" Alfred whooped, pumping his fist into the air, "That's the best part of the day!" Matthew gave a quiet smile, as he watched his brother excitedly run towards his locker. As Matthew retrieved his lunch – which was in a brown paper bag – Gilbert suddenly appeared in front of him.

"Eek!" shrieked Matthew, nearly dropping his lunch. Gilbert raised an eyebrow and remarked, "Are you always this sensitive about your surroundings?" It took Matthew a couple of seconds to recollect his voice. "Erm, no..." Matthew quietly stated, feeling his cheeks burn, "Well, you just...scared me...that's all."

Before Gilbert could reply, Alfred wandered up, clutching his own lunch bag – which was flawlessly decorated with golden stars, red, white, and blue stripes. Matthew quickly turned his face away so that Alfred couldn't see him blushing. Meanwhile, Alfred had looked at Gilbert curiously and with a certain amount of wariness, and asked, "Why are you here?"

"Remember about the meeting?" Gilbert replied, "I'm here to bring you there." Alfred's face cleared for a moment, and he said, "Oh yeah! We're supposed to attend some random meeting or like that...where is it?" Gilbert gave a crooked grin and said, "That's why I'm here! Let's go now, 'cause we can't have our chairman pissed off." Matthew asked, "Chairman? There's a chairman of the school?" Gilbert nodded and said, "It's my younger brother, Ludwig."

"Really? That's so cool!" Alfred excitedly said, "Someday, I'd like to be a chairman!" Gilbert laughed and said, "Well, you'll have to somehow beat Ludwig to it. Let's get going." Alfred returned the grin, and pulled Matthew's arm. "Come on Mattie!" Alfred happily said, "This'll be fun!" Matthew nodded and murmured, "You can stop pulling my arm, Al." The trio started to climb a flight of stairs. "So...why must we attend this meeting?" Matthew curiously said, "We're just new kids here."

"You'll find out," Gilbert mysteriously replied, clearly indicating that he wasn't going to reveal any details. Yet, Alfred, being the persistent one, whined, "Aw, come on! Can't you just tell us who's going to be there?" Gilbert responded, "Ludwig and his committee, of course. Now stop asking me anymore questions, because I'm going to be violating some crappy rule they had."

"Who's they?" Alfred quickly interjected, hopeful that Gilbert would take in the bait. Unfortunately, Gilbert merely winked at Matthew, and didn't say anything else. They finally arrived at a door, and Gilbert knocked on it. "Enter!" a familiar voice called out. Gilbert opened the door slowly, and poked his head into it. "Oh, it's you Feli," Gilbert said, relief evident in his voice, "We were worried that we would show up late."

"Oh, you're actually early, ve!" Feliciano happily said. As Gilbert motioned to Matthew and Alfred to go inside the room, Feliciano's eyes widened at Alfred's and Matthew's wounds. "Ve! What happened to you two?" Feliciano exclaimed, "This is your first day here, right?"

"Um...it's better if you don't really ask about what happened," Alfred said, slightly irritated, "It's just that we didn't exactly have a good start to our day." Alfred expected Feliciano to reply, but realized that Feliciano was gushing over Matthew instead. "Ve, what a quiet boy!" Feliciano exclaimed, as he examined Matthew, "Do you like pasta?"

"Really, Feliciano, is that all you talk about? Pasta and pizza?" A boy with dark blonde hair remarked vaguely. He had a very strange, almost clipped accent, which made it slightly hard to figure out what exactly he was saying. His dark green eyes—obscured by glasses—were intently focused on the screen of a laptop, and his hands flew over the keyboard as he furiously typed something. Matthew and Alfred stared in astonishment. Meanwhile, Feliciano cried out, "Ve, Eduard! You're so mean! I was just asking!"

Instead of Eduard replying back, another boy with shoulder-length blonde hair replied in a strong French accent, "If you wish to express your love and concern properly to a person you like, you must use the power of _l'amour_ to do it." A tall boy wearing a black coat with a small hat in his blonde hair asked, "Wow, is that all you talk about? If I were you, I'd consider joining some sports... you're starting to look like a chicken, didn't you notice?"

The room burst into laughter, and the other boy flushed angrily. "You're _très méchant_, you know that?" the boy angrily stated, "Your jokes are pathetic!" Another boy angrily replied, "At least they're not as lame as yours!" His light green eyes flared, and he continued, "You should, like, stop acting so bossy!"

"Hmph," an Asian boy snorted, as he leaned against the wall. Matthew and Alfred noticed how his hair was tied back in a ponytail. "You people are so immature, it's pathetic to see how us Asians are obviously superior to you," the Asian boy said, as he casually started to clean his fingernails. Two other Asians were also standing near him, and they nodded their approval too.

Obviously, his remark was heard by everyone in the room, and another argument ensued. Alfred and Matthew watched the chaos in the room, their eyes wide. "Well, this sure is one cool meeting!" Alfred finally exclaimed. As Matthew quietly responded, Alfred noticed the door slowly creak open, and Ivan slowly walk inside the room. "Ivan!" greeted Alfred, madly waving his hand in order to get the older boy's attention. Ivan looked at Alfred, and winced inwardly.

"Hello Alfred F. Jones," he coolly replied. He started to walk towards a nearby chair, and Alfred looked at him, open-mouthed. "Um...aren't you, like, going to...do something?" Alfred finally asked. Ivan looked at Alfred, puzzled. He tipped his head to one side and asked, "What would you like me to do? I'm here for the meeting." Alfred asked desperately, "But aren't you going to...?" Before he could finish his sentence, a loud voice suddenly screamed, "**EVERYONE SHUT UP!**"

There was a loud silence in the room. All heads turned towards the door, and Matthew and Alfred recognized Ludwig standing there. Ludwig glared at everyone, as he had a huge stack of papers under one hand. "**WE'RE HERE TO DISCUS IMPORTANT MATTERS! NOT TO FIGHT ABOUT OUR CRUMMY LIVES!**" Ludwig continued yelling. He stomped towards the table, and sardonically asked, "**WELL? ARE YOU ALL GOING TO SIT DOWN, OR WHAT?**"

Everyone nodded, and a few mutterings were in the air. Eventually, everybody found a chair, and sat around the large table. Gilbert sat on the right side of Ludwig, and motioned to Matthew to sit next to him. Matthew gratefully sank into a chair, glad that the commotion had stopped. Alfred also managed to get a chair next to Matthew, but Ivan was sitting on his left side. Ivan continued to ignore Alfred's looks, and simply stared straight ahead.

Ludwig surveyed the different people around the table and said in a slightly quieter voice, "Thank you all for coming to this meeting. As chairman of the students, I am not only in charge about events and problems happening in this school, but also students' _abilities_; which is why I have asked our two new students to come to this meeting." All the heads slowly turned into the direction of Matthew, then to Alfred. Ludwig cleared his throat and said, "Before we begin, I'd like to introduce everyone in this room."

He pointed towards one of the Asians and stated, "This is Kiku Honda, and he's a Japanese genius. He's my secretary. If you ever want to talk to me, then get in touch with him first. He has the ability of seeing any moment of the past." Kiku nodded towards Matthew and Alfred. _He looks very serious, _thought Alfred, _But he looks nice, as well. Maybe he'll be a good friend. _Ludwig moved on to Feliciano, and also introduced his ability to move extremely quickly.

Gilbert in a rather loud voice remarked, "_Bruder_, you also forgot to mention how you're dating Feliciano." There were some snickers around the room, and Ludwig glared at Gilbert. "Thank you, Gilbert," Ludwig said dryly. He pointed towards the shoulder-length blonde and said, "This is Francis Bonnefoy. Francis is in charge of the school's drama program, and has an unusual power over love—" Some _ooohs_ and _aaahs _echoed around the room, and Ludwig banged his fist on the table.

"Shut up, all of you! I'm trying to do some proper introductions here!" Ludwig fumed, "Anyways... the person next to Francis is Yao Wang. He's in charge of the visual arts program here, and obviously his power is the ability to bring paintings to life." Eventually, Ludwig had introduced everyone in the room, along with their positions and their powers. There was Gunnar Kjær, who was in charge of sports. His ability was to control the weather. He was also known as a joker, and constantly made fun of others.

Feliks Łukasiewicz was Ivan's cousin, and was the perfect example of a typical teenager. His ability was to change his appearance anytime he wanted to. He was also in charge of drama along with Francis. Matthew flushed, when Feliks suddenly used his ability and appeared exactly like Matthew. Gilbert grinned, but Ivan simply ignored him. Alfred nudged Ivan and whispered, "Is he really your cousin?" Ivan simply replied by giving him a baleful look.

The two boys sitting next to Feliks were named as Raivis Galante (a very small and fearful-looking boy with tufts of blonde hair) and Toris Lorinaitis (who had shoulder-length chestnut-brown hair, and looked as though he was the type to always be worried). Apparently, despite their differing surnames and appearances, they were brothers, and had the powers of speaking to spirits and remote viewing.

The strange kid whose mind seemed to be buried in the laptop was Eduard von Bock, and he was both Raivis' and Toris' brother, as well. The only word to describe him was _geeky_. Like Kiku, he was also very serious, but would occasionally give a small smile. Not surprisingly, his ability was to control electricity. "Eduard is in charge of the computer program here," Ludwig explained, "If you ever have a problem with your computer, then go to him."

Roderich Edelstein was a young musical prodigy. Obviously, he was in charge of the music program, and had the ability to create music that would bring inanimate objects to life. Alfred couldn't help but notice how he seemed to have a – _superior_ – air towards everyone, and seemed to be very conscientious. His clothes were neatly pressed and painstakingly immaculate. His fingernails were so clean that Alfred was certain that he had never had a speck of dirt on them in his entire life.

"He's nothing but a prissy show-off," whispered Gilbert, "Don't ever mind what he says."

Ivan was eventually introduced. It was revealed that his ability was to invade minds to obtain information, and to project thoughts. Alfred noticed how everyone was silent and—almost _fearful_—of what Ludwig was saying. Even Ludwig seemed to be rather wary of Ivan.

Gilbert was the last one to be introduced. He was Ludwig's older brother, and had the ability to control shadows. "He's a very bad influence," warned Ludwig, "I suggest you leave him alone for your own good." Gilbert replied by sticking his tongue out at Ludwig, and Matthew couldn't help but giggle. He was awed at the variety of abilities, but Alfred couldn't help but think how great his ability was. _It's cooler than all of theirs, _thought Alfred, _That's why I should be a hero someday. _

Ludwig turned towards Matthew and Alfred and said, "Now that introductions are over, I want to know what your abilities are." Alfred promptly yelled, "Great! I have the best ability of all! Guess what my power is, you guys?" There was a brief second of silence, and Alfred dramatically said, "I have the ability to give, take, appear in, and view people's dreams!"

There was a brief moment of silence in the room_._ "I, like, really don't think that's very, like, cool," Feliks remarked, tossing his blonde hair over his shoulders. Roderich nodded and coolly stated, "Yours doesn't appear to be very powerful or useful at all." Matthew immediately could tell that Roderich had said something wrong. He placed a hand on Alfred's arm, but Alfred ignored Matthew. "Is that so?" Alfred said, menace creeping into his voice, "Would you like me to demonstrate my power?"

Before anyone could reply, Alfred marched up to Roderich and touched his forehead. Everyone could see Roderich's forehead glowing, and Alfred began to say in a monotone, "You had a dream last night where you and Elizabeta were having a date together at a restaurant. You went to the beach afterwards, and you started to play the piano for her. She wrapped her arms around your neck and—"

"Okay, that's enough!" Roderich cried, blushing furiously. A wave of laughter erupted in the room, and Gunnar said, "That's the lamest date I've ever heard of! You should work out more, so that Elizabeta would notice you!" Ludwig screamed, "**SHUT UP, GUNNAR!**" He glared at Alfred and said, "I'm going to classify your ability as a _mind alteration _one, and I don't want you showing off ever again, is that understood?" Alfred nodded, a triumphant smirk on his face.

"See?" Alfred whispered to Matthew, "I told you I have a powerful ability!" Unexpectedly, Alfred noticed Ivan gave a small chuckle. Alfred frowned at him and asked, "What's so funny?" Ivan smiled, "How you're so self-centered. It will be a pleasure to break you with _my_ ability, Alfred F. Jones." Alfred felt indignation rising and angrily said, "Shut up, like you'll ever beat me, the hero!"

"Ahem," Ludwig coughed, making Alfred and Ivan to look at him. Ludwig glared at them both and said, "I believe I called this meeting for a _reason_, not to provoke childish fights." Ludwig looked at Matthew and said, "Now it's your turn. Please tell us your ability, and don't bother to demonstrate it, like your brother did." Matthew swallowed, as he felt everybody's eyes on him. "Umm... m-my ability... is," Matthew slowly said, "is... to t-turn... invisible." Again, another bout of muttering followed, along with strange looks. Matthew looked down at his feet, unsure what to do.

Ludwig looked thoughtful and remarked, "Wow, I haven't heard that ability before...that's very interesting. I'm going to mark yours down as _shapeshifting_." He then looked up from his notes and said, "Well, I don't have anything else to say for now, so you are dismissed. I will let you know when the next meeting is going to be held." Everyone stood up, and started to file out of the room.

Alfred yawned and said, "Gee, what a boring meeting!" Matthew looked at him and said incredulously, "What? I found it to be interesting!" Alfred stared back at Matthew and slowly asked, "Did you actually say something with strong emotion?" Matthew flushed and turned away. Alfred shrugged and muttered, "Never mind... must've been my imagination." Alfred casually glanced at a clock, but felt his eyes nearly fall out when he saw the time.

"Oh my god, Mattie! We're going to get late for the next class!" Alfred yelled. Before Matthew could say anything, Alfred grasped his hand and started to speed down the hallway. "Alfred, wait!" Matthew said, but doubted whether Alfred heard him at all. Eventually, Alfred somehow stopped in front of Matthew's locker. Matthew leaned against his locker, trying to steady himself. He was feeling rather faint, and Alfred noticed how pale he looked. "Mattie! Are you okay?" Alfred asked, concern in his eyes.

Matthew slowly nodded and said, "I'm just... a little dizzy, that's all." Alfred nodded and said, "I'll be right back. Lemme grab my stuff, and I'll meet you here." Before Matthew could object, Alfred had disappeared. Matthew sighed, and opened his locker. He glanced at the schedule, and read: _12:10 – 1:30: Art, Ms. Hassan, Room 210_. Matthew gave a tiny sigh of relief and thought, _Art isn't that bad…nothing bad can possibly go wrong when you're taking art classes._

Alfred eventually showed up with his supplies, and both brothers walked into the art room. Matthew pointed to some seats in the corner, but Alfred refused to sit there. "We should sit in the center! We can see way more!" Alfred enthusiastically explained.

Matthew sighed, and resignedly followed his brother to a table. Other students had entered, along with a tall, tanned woman with straight, jet-black hair. She introduced herself as Ms. Khemet Hassan. "I will be your art teacher for this year," she stated, looking around the room, "I have taught most of you, but I see some new faces amongst the crowd." Alfred gave a big grin, while Matthew looked somewhat embarrassed.

Ms. Hassan clapped her hands and announced, "For this class, I want to begin by _reawakening your minds_. You will all be doing a _symbolic painting!_" She paused dramatically, waiting for some sort of reaction. When everybody stared back at her with blank looks on their faces, she sighed and said resignedly, "Just paint whatever comes to your mind's eye, okay?"

Soon, the whole room was filled with chatter as everyone grabbed random bottles of paint, and paintbrushes. Alfred eagerly smeared white, red, blue, and yellow onto his paint palette, as Matthew looked on. "I'm going to paint myself as a hero!" Alfred announced rather loudly. He turned around, and asked, "Where are the paintbrushes?" In response, Matthew pointed to a large can, and Alfred reached his hand over. As soon as he gripped one of the paintbrushes, a larger hand was on top of his hand. Alfred looked up, and saw that Ivan was staring down at him.

"I believe you are holding my paint brush," Ivan calmly stated. Alfred swallowed and retorted, "Nonsense! I touched this paintbrush first! I call it!" Ivan pulled on the handle, but Alfred pulled back too. Matthew noticed the commotion, and considered telling both of them to stop it, but decided against it. _It's not like anyone would notice me anyways, _thought Matthew. He turned back to his own canvas, and left both of them fighting. Meanwhile, Ivan finally let go of the paintbrush. "Very well then," Ivan growled, "You can have it, but I am sure that I will paint a better picture than you."

Alfred snorted and said, "Give me a break, like anyone could ever paint a better picture than the hero!" He flounced off, gripping the paintbrush tightly in his hand. Ivan watched him walk off, slightly amused. Later, as Alfred began to paint, Matthew gave him a quiet scolding. "Why are you and Ivan constantly fighting?" Matthew quietly hissed, "Forget our first day, one week hasn't even passed by!"

Alfred rolled his eyes and said, "Stop worrying Mattie, it's just that Ivan is such an annoying commie! He's... he's... he's like a dog toy, you know?" Matthew looked curiously at him, and Alfred explained, "No matter how hard you squish the toy, it keeps going back to its original shape. It's the same way with Ivan—no matter how many times I remind him how much of a hero I am, he never listens!"

For some bizarre reason, similar words were pouring out of Ivan's mouth as he talked to Toris Lorinaitis, who he was on _rather good _terms with (though if you had asked the other, the answer might have been different). "Alfred Jones reminds me of a rubber ball," Ivan remarked, "No matter what you do to have him shut up, he will always bounce back to his original state and continue talking, да?"

Toris nodded, fear filling his mind at the very fact that he was actually standing and painting next to Ivan Braginski. Time ebbed by, and eventually Ms. Hassan announced that the time was up. "Now, I want everyone to show their paintings to each other." Alfred eagerly looked at Matthew and asked, "Well? What do you think about my painting? Isn't it heroic?" Matthew stared at Alfred's painting, which appears to be...

"The American flag flapping outside the window," remarked Ivan sardonically, "Very impressive." He began to clap sarcastically, that _same goddamn smile on his face_, Alfred noticed, before the American yelled, "Hey! At least it's _patriotic_! Let's see how good yours is, bloody co—" Ivan interjected quietly, "Don't call me that." Alfred rolled his eyes, and looked at Ivan's canvas with Matthew.

Ivan had painted a chest of drawers. Alfred and Matthew could see the fine, intricate grains of the dark wood, and saw that a vase of sunflowers sat on top of the chest. The dappled sunlight on the sunflowers created an interesting effect, and Matthew felt tempted to reach his hand out to somehow touch the petals. Alfred pointed at the vodka and sneered, "Well, that was expected."

As Ivan and Alfred argued over the purpose of the vodka bottle, Matthew couldn't help but notice a pair of ice skates sitting in the shadowy part of the painting. _That's odd, _Matthew wondered, _I wonder if Ivan plays hockey? _Ice hockey was Matthew's _absolute_ _favourite_ sport, since it was the only one that he could actually beat his brother in. "Okay, I'm kinda bored about this painting," Alfred said, trying his hardest to look unimpressed, "What did you do, Mattie?" Matthew flushed and showed them his painting.

Matthew had painted a scene of a prairie field. A small creek was running through the field, and Alfred commented, "Wow, that looks very realistic and peaceful!" Matthew blushed and muttered, "Thanks." Alfred said enthusiastically, "Come on, let's look at some other ones too!" They walked around, and looked at Ludwig's canvas. Ludwig had painted a peculiar pink-white blob with two long thingies sticking out of it.

"Um...what exactly is that?" Alfred asked, curious. Ludwig was flushing madly as he muttered, "I tried to paint a rabbit." He slumped his shoulders. "Don't worry; you did a great job, ve!" Feliciano happily said, "You just have to fix some of the strokes here, and add some more paint..." He took Ludwig's hand, and gently guided Ludwig to parts of the canvas. Alfred had never seen Ludwig more embarrassed in his entire life.

Just then, the bell rang. Ms. Hassan announced, "Good job everyone, you're dismissed!" Alfred raced out of the class, eager to go to the final period of the day. "Al, wait up!" Matthew called, but Alfred was already gone. He sighed, and ran a hand through his blonde hair. "It's going to be a long year..." muttered Matthew, "And we just had to change schools now."

* * *

They walked quietly to world history class, which was taught by Matthew and Alfred's homeroom, Mr. Vargas, with Ludwig and Feliciano, Ivan trailing behind them slightly. Suddenly, Alfred grabbed his twin's wrist and began running towards the door at full speed. He turned back, "I bet we can beat you to the door!" he screamed at Ludwig, Feliciano, and Ivan. Feliciano cried, "That's not fair, ve!"

Ludwig and Ivan continued walking at the same pace, Ludwig's eyes looking up at the ceiling every so often as though he was asking what he had done to end up in this place, while Ivan simply smiled and pretended to not have heard anything.

By the time they all sat down in the classroom, Mr. Vargas was already standing at the front. He looked at them and raised his eyebrows, saying, "By the way, there's no running in the hallways, but I think I can let you get away with it for now." Alfred grinned and screamed, "Thanks, Mr. V! You're a great teacher!" Matthew sighed, walked to a seat in the back, and covered his head with his hands.

Ivan took the corner seat—at the back of the room—and quietly took out a piece of graph paper, a ruler, and a pencil. The rest of the students trailed in relatively quickly, including a certain albino German with striking scarlet eyes. "_What_ are you doing here, bruder?" asked Ludwig irritably. "You're not in this class."

Gilbert looked back at his brother evenly. "Well, anyway, _now_ the awesome me is a part of this class, even just for today!" Feliciano noticed the sideways glance he cast at Matthew; Ludwig failed to see it. Gilbert quickly walked over and plopped himself down in a chair. "Hey, so, you know world history class is always pretty much a spare, right?"

Matthew shook his head. "Yeah, well, it sort of is, so..." Gilbert shrugged, "I've got world history with the senior teacher—I forget his name, he's new, but he's a mundane, I mean, an ordinary human—so I skipped." By now Matthew had gotten used to Gilbert and his habit of skipping, while Ludwig continued to look at his elder brother disapprovingly.

Meanwhile, Alfred was staring intently at Ivan—he had taken to sitting next to the tall Russian, following him around everywhere he went—as the other began to sketch out a series of dots and lines. _Dots and lines, dots and lines, dots and_... Alfred thought idly, before realizing what the blonde boy was drawing.

"Is that Cancer?" he asked, pointing at one of the groups of dots that were connected by lines. Ivan turned away and muttered, "Да—yes, that's Cancer." Alfred perked up instantly. "Cool! I thought it was! It's pretty interesting that we're both into stars, huh? You're more awesome than I thought you were!" Gilbert, upon hearing the word 'awesome' used in his vicinity, yelled, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever! I'm way more awesome than all of you!" Matthew winced, but couldn't resist cracking a small smile. This strange albino was so different from him in so many ways, yet they seemed to be similar, too.

"You like... stars?" asked Ivan incredulously; he couldn't believe that someone as straightforward and, well, _normal_ as Alfred could have such a scientifically-minded hobby. "Yep!" replied Alfred cheerily. "Do you do a lot of stargazing?" Ivan's gaze grew darker. "No... no, I do not." The American looked put out. "Well, if you ever want to, you can always come over to my place—I have a totally epic telescope!"

The corners of Ivan's mouth began to tip precariously downwards. "Thank you for your offer, Alfred F. Jones," he said quietly. "However, I will be fine without it." And with that, he turned back towards his sheet of paper, rapidly drawing out the rest of Cancer and beginning the next constellation. Alfred mumbled, mostly to himself, "I still think that it's... really interesting that we both like stars." As a half-hearted jab, he muttered, "Commie."

Ivan pretended not to hear.

Gilbert and Matthew were still talking on the other side of the classroom—well, it was more like Gilbert talking and Matthew working on his English homework while nodding and saying a combination of "of course", "sure", and "yeah" every half minute that passed. Gilbert droned on: "Of course, the awesome me was like, '_Oh no you didn't_', and then that blonde dude-chick—think he's related to the Russian freak—started laughing and shit. Yeah, I was so cool that day! You wanna hear what happened today?" he asked, and Matthew nodded, a sigh just barely starting to escape him.

He liked Gilbert. Gilbert was a very interesting person. But the truth was, he'd never had many friends before—his only friend had been his brother, _ever_, in the history of... everything. He didn't know how he'd deal with _this _one.

The bell rang as the clock struck three o'clock in the afternoon. "See you on Monday" and "Bye, you guys" were both yelled through the classroom. Gilbert leaned on the edge of Matthew's desk, "Anything to do tomorrow?" Matthew blushed—was this what he _thought_ it was?—and stutter-mumbled, "N-no, of c-course not..." Gilbert slapped him on the shoulder. "It's settled then! Here's my address..." he scribbled out something on a sheet of paper, "see you tomorrow at one in the afternoon!"

He turned and abruptly left, dragging Ludwig (and, by extension, Feliciano) with him. No one saw the light pink dusting his cheeks.

* * *

The bus stopped five minutes away from their house, at a clean and neat-looking bus stop. They walked in mostly silence punctuated by the occasional "How many more minutes" questions (or, in Alfred's case, "hours"); the day had turned surprisingly cold and not to their liking.

When they arrived at their house, they noticed, as if for the first time, how quiet and lonely the building looked. It was nice-looking, white with accents of silver chrome and black—the one word to describe it would have been _monochrome_—yet it didn't feel like a home. _It just felt like a temporary area of habitation or something scientific like that_, thought Alfred. _It doesn't feel like our old house in Montana_. He sighed and looped his arm through Matthew's. Matthew looked up at his younger—taller—brother and turned to their house.

"...I guess this is where we're going to live from now on, huh?" he asked quietly, not really expecting an answer. Alfred's frown deepened. "Yep... this is our home from here on out."

After they had unlocked both the gate and the front door and had walked in, Alfred immediately dropped his bookbag on the ground, all cheerfulness resumed. He cheered, "It's the weekend! Two days of videogaming and slacking off and eating hamburgers and chips!" before running right up the stairs.

Matthew followed Alfred up the stairs, choosing instead to go to his room and immediately begin his homework. He could hear the television being turned on and some first-person shooter game being loaded up. He began doing his English homework while daydreaming about the day's happenings and about the albino German. _He's definitely different_, he thought, _and it was very interesting to know that we're not the only ones with... powers... anymore_. He remembered how he had felt so vulnerable when he realized that Gilbert was the only one who could see him when he was invisible.

He didn't know whether the feeling was good or bad, and he wasn't sure if he _wanted_ to know.

By the time it was five o'clock, Alfred had completely worn himself out playing some videogame with extremely realistic gunfire sound effects and Matthew had completed his English assignment (thinking that, on Sunday night, he'd have to help his brother with his.) Alfred skipped outside and began preparing a steak of some sort—they both agreed that his steak was to die for—while Matthew had started to flip pancakes over the stove.

They sat in the kitchen, eating their dinner quietly, even Alfred, who was clearly too tired to say much. He did mention, though: "What did you think of that comm—the Russian guy, Ivan?" Matthew answered truthfully, "He seems... a bit scary. And same for his power, it's very frightening. He's a pretty strange guy, I guess." Alfred shrugged. "Yeah, s'what I thought, too. But he's sort of... fascinating."

Matthew looked at his brother strangely as he poured more maple syrup over his pancakes. He knew it was strange to eat pancakes for breakfast, lunch, _and _dinner whenever it was possible, but he did like them. "What do you mean, 'fasincating'?" he asked.

"...I dunno," replied Alfred, lazily leaning back on the stool. "I really... I just don't know. He's not like anyone else I've ever met before, I don't think, and he's sort of an outcast, and y'know, I'm the hero, so I sort of feel responsible for him!" he grinned brightly.

Matthew knew his twin better than to fall for his lies.

Their father came home at promptly seven o'clock; they had watched television, played videogames, and talked with each other for nearly two hours. Matthew had also managed to finish all of his homework. They heard the front door being unlocked and a briefcase being dropped unceremoniously on the tile of the front hall. "Good evening," called Matthew as he hurried down the stairs to greet their father.

"Good evening, Matthew. I might like to ask—where is your brother?" He said this disdainfully, as though he honestly did not expect Alfred to show up. Inside his own mind, Matthew prayed that his brother would have been smart enough to follow.

Surely enough, Alfred rushed down the stairs and greeted his father. "Good evening... _father_," said Alfred, as though he still wasn't used to saying that word after sixteen years. "How was your day?" asked Matthew courteously, attempting to smooth out the conflict before it started. "My day was fine, thank you," the other replied, running a hand through his slicked-back dirty blonde hair. "And what of yours?" He began walking towards the kitchen.

Alfred and Matthew trailed behind him, a rather unusual mixture of disdain and worry on the usually carefree blonde's face. His twin was biting his lip.

All three went to the dining-room and sat down; their father was at the head of the table, the twins at the opposite end. "No one learnt about the Evil, did they?" he asked, his tone suddenly growing businesslike. "After all, we don't want a repeat of what happened in... _that other town_." He said this with a look of absolute disgust on his face. "I am sure that you do not want for that to happen, either, _isn't that right_?" His voice had an undercurrent of a harsh not-gentleman, no matter what he tried to portray himself as.

"_Actually_," said Alfred hotly, "I'm really glad to know that you signed us up in a school for _freaks _like us! A third of the students have powers just like us. I guess you thought you could, I dunno, pretend that the Evil was all behind us, but it isn't! It's still here, and we're going to have to work even harder to keep what happened in... that town in Montana... quiet!"

"What happened in the old town is over," said their father coldly, cutting a piece of steak up with extreme force. "All that I am asking is that you do not mention what happened to anyone. I am sure that that is not an extremely _hard_ task for you, is it? Even though your grade point average may say otherwise?" He looked at both of them with hard, icy, calculating blue eyes.

"What about our mother?" Matthew suddenly burst out. "What about her? We avoid her as though she never existed—but Al and I both know that she had something to do with the Evil, we know it!" He quieted and resumed biting his lip—which was quickly beginning to bleed—while staring pointedly at the wall.

"We're leaving," hissed Alfred, and he grabbed his twin's hand and walked—no, dragged—him up the stairs. Only when the door of his bedroom had been slammed and both of them were sitting on his room's sofa did he begin to talk.

"How can he be so cold, so cruel, so _frozen_?" he raged. "He's our father! Our whole lives, we've lived them like... like second-class citizens! All he cares about is his work and making money! He doesn't talk about the Evil, he doesn't talk about our mother, it's as though as soon as it's in the past, we can pretend it never happened! But it did!" He angrily kicked his bedside table; the lamp wobbled precariously.

"Calm down, Al," sighed Matthew. "He... he's... I don't know," he said finally, a look of utter defeat on his face. "I just don't know, okay, Al?" Alfred stood up again and slammed his fist down on the table. "You know who he reminds me of? He reminds me of that goddamned stupid fucking commie bastard, that Ivan Braginski! They're both so cold and unemotional and frozen! I hate it!" He fell back onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling.

"We're going to have to put up with him until we graduate, anyway," said Matthew, a look of pure determination on his face. "We don't have a _choice_, Al. Whether or not he avoids us, he's still our... legal guardian. He's still... our father."

"Don't describe him with the word 'father'!" shouted Alfred. "He is not—and has _never been_—a father figure to us, or to anyone! Why did she _die_, anyway?" he spat. "It's all... her... fault! I can hardly wait until the day I can leave this fucking hellhole!"

Matthew turned his face to the wall.

"Anyway," said Al, his breathing still somewhat ragged, "what's up with you and that... Gilbert guy? He's pretty weird—his power and everything." Matthew looked up defensively. "He's just friends with me—aren't I allowed to have friends? And what's with you and Ivan? _That_'s definitely not normal, if I've ever seen a _normal_ relationship before."

"What do you mean, 'relationship'?" asked Alfred scathingly. "There were no _relationships_ in our childhood except for with each other, and you know it." Matthew sighed. "I didn't mean it that way. I... just... never mind." He stood up, wished his brother goodnight, and left.

_Maybe a shower will calm my nerves_, thought Alfred. _There's not much else I can do at this point_.

* * *

As the water rained down on him, he thought about Ivan, the crazy Russian with his crazy habits, the only one who'd ever take him on in a fight. He seemed to be the type who had a lot of secrets; his power only served to reinforce that point. _The power of invading people's minds? That's a creepy power if I ever heard of one_, thought Alfred.

Suddenly he was thinking about the way the commie looked, with his silvery blonde hair, awfully tantalizing violet eyes, and pale creamy skin, and to his horror, he was _getting turned on_.

He quickly switched the water to cold and sunk down into the corner of the shower stall. _I am not thinking about the commie in that manner,_ he repeated to himself in a mantra, _I am not thinking about how hot he looks or how_—he stopped.

He wasn't allowed to do that anymore, not since the Evil had happened.

When he got out of the shower, the first thing he did was wrap a towel around his waist and run out to the balcony of his room, where he had already set up his telescope. He looked at the stars for a long time, numbing himself to the memories that the Evil—and the thought of Ivan—kept bringing up. By the time it was eleven PM, he found himself falling asleep, and quickly retired to his bed.

Soon enough, he found himself falling into a dream.

He was sitting in the front of an audience surrounding a circular ice rink; they were all clapping and cheering for the unknown performer, who was not yet seen. He knew what to do: he clapped along with them, just for appearance's sake in the dream.

A nearly-unrecognizable Ivan Braginski skated from the edge of the arena as some sort of old-sounding opera aria began to play. He hadn't expected this of anyone, much less Ivan—who knew that he was a figure skater? He could tell, too, that this wasn't just a _dream_-dream; it was clearly a hobby that Ivan had, figure-skating.

Still, he hadn't thought that the commie would be that into something like this.

He continued watching, mesmerized. There was a certain fluid grace with the way that the Russian skated, a grace that might have been inhuman if he wasn't, you know, a _commie_. And as the dream ended, Ivan looked up and saw Alfred's face in the crowd.

He woke up in his own bed, the sun streaming through the glass patio door. He knew what he was going to do this morning; it wasn't like there was anything else for him to do, anyway. He quickly changed into a barely-presentable pair of dirty jeans and a hoodie, wandered down the stairs, took a piece of cold bread from the refrigerator, noticed that his father had already gone to work (though it was a Saturday, his work shoes weren't by the door), and set out.

It was only later on that he realized he had _absolutely no clue_ where the ice rink was.

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This chapter was about two pages longer than the last one. We were supposed to update once a week, but that's probably not really going to be happening anytime soon. Anyway, we hope you enjoyed it—we also like reviews, just saying. Пока and ja ne~


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